The Untold Story of Edward
by PeanutButterConnoisseur
Summary: The untold story of Edward from his point of view as he deals with the death of his first true love. And it's not Bella.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: This story is from Edward's point of view, and I'm writing this even though I have a Harry Potter story in the works. **_**PLEASE REVIEW. **_**Tell me if you would like me to continue with this story. Also, I'm not sure I got the time period right. I'm writing like Edward lived in the eighteen hundreds or so. Is that right?**

I crept down the stairs, took one look at my inebriated father, and knew that I was safe. He lay on the couch, sprawled over the armrest, still wearing the soiled suit he had been wearing since yesterday. Thankfully, he was asleep, and he would stay asleep for some time. I glanced at my mother, quietly knitting in a chair across from my father, her hair pulled away from her face, as was the style. Her dress was clean and pressed, and as my eyes took in the two of them, I was reminded yet again about how unalike they were. I was also reminded of the only thing they had in common: me. 

I had paused on the stairs, but now continued quietly on, stealing glances at my father to make sure his slumber was not interrupted. When I reached the creaky stair near the bottom I stepped down onto the step, not fully putting my weight on it. The small noise it made was sufficient in alerting my mother to my presence. She looked up, looked me up and now, noticed how well I was dressed, and nodded slightly, giving me her approval. I grinned at her, and she winked in return, and then continued on with her knitting as though nothing had occurred. I skipped over the creaky step, and was out the door, going as quietly as I could.

Once out in the warm evening air a feeling of calm washed over me. The stars and moon shone brightly that night, and I spotted Orion's belt far on the horizon. With a spring in my step I walked down the dirt road and towards my love, the perfect girl for me, the girl with raven-colored hair named Elizabeth. 

As I came upon the cave that we had claimed as our own, a familiar feeling of excitement overcame me. Elizabeth was my other half, the girl that understood me the best. Simply put, we were soul mates, and nothing would ever tear us apart. The cave that we used to meet had been Elizabeth's childhood hiding place, where annoying siblings could not find her. She had suggested we meet here, because we could meet in secret, away from the prying and unwanted eyes of fathers. 

I brushed away the foliage that Elizabeth and I placed over the entrance every time we left. Though away from the road, and far from any fields, we did not want someone snooping and finding our little hiding spot. I looked in, hoping to be greeted with the sight of Elizabeth, sitting on a blanket, waiting for me with a few candles lit in the back of the cave. But what really greeted my eyes was a dark, empty cave. I crawled in a little farther. It seemed much drearier when it was devoid of our passion. 

'How strange,' I thought, 'she's almost always here before me.' 

I waited a few moments, chalking up her lateness to some unfinished chore. Perhaps she had forgotten to tidy her room, or to sweep the kitchen; but my logic immediately dispelled these ideas: if she had forgotten a chore, would she really choose to finish them at midnight? My hope dwindled completely as an hour passed. Then two. After three hours, I decided to leave the damp cave and walk home. The road was deserted, and the quiet solemnity that seemed to fill the very air at this time of night fit my mood perfectly. I wondered silently why she had not met me, when she had joined me every night without fail for the past two months. Hopefully, she had not gotten in trouble on my account. I could not possibly have her unhappiness on my conscience, it was simply too much to bear. 

My love for Elizabeth is indescribable, and my mood took a dark and unappealing turn whenever I could not see her. I reached the turnoff to my house, and walked gravely to the door, like a man walking to the gallows. I turned the knob quietly and entered stealthily, careful not to make loud noises. I glanced at the parlor, and noted that my mother's chair lay empty: she had probably gone to bed. But as my eyes roved over living room, an unwelcome sight greeted my eyes. My father was sitting up, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, a dark green bottle lying in his hand. 

"Father," I said quietly. Adrenaline surged through my veins; I was afraid of what my father could do when drunk.

"Where have you been?" he asked. I had enough sense to know the question was rhetorical. "Have you been seeing that little slut…what's her name? Elizabeth?" Anger engulfed me as he talked about my precious Eliza in such a rude way. 

He got up shakily and started walking towards me. Instinctively, I took a step back. 

"I have forbidden you from seeing that little whore. I expect you to honor my word as your father." He took another unsteady step forward.

"Do you hear me?" He asked gruffly.

"Yes, sir."

He continued his approach, and I edged backward, repelled by every bit of him, from his rank breath to his uncombed, greasy hair. 

"Well have you been to see her?" he asked.

"No, sir." I replied. It wasn't a complete lie.

"Liar!" he yelled, coming at me with more speed than I thought he was capable of in his drunken stupor. 

"That little bitch is going to get you into trouble," he said, standing inches from my face. "She's going to get pregnant and then will you be?"

"Sir, it isn't like that." I hardly got out my sentence before he raised his fist and slammed it down on my face. I felt a crack, and blood gushed out of my nose. I heard a gasp from the top of the stairs, and I knew that my mother was there, watching helplessly as her drunken husband pummeled her beloved son.

All I could was raise hand in front of my face in defense, as I was lying against the wall, trying to escape my father's anger. 

"You stay away from her!" he yelled, kicking me in the side where I lay on the floor. All I could do was whimper a reply.


	2. Chapter 2

My father lumbered drunkenly out the back door, slamming the screen as he went. When the door had shut, my mother rushed down the stairs in a swirl of frilly white nightgown. I was still hunched on the floor, trying to stem the blood that was cascading down my pale face from my nose.

"Oh Edward," my mother said, gently unclenching my hands that were fisted tightly in front of my chest. She folded her arms around me and held me in her firm, unwavering embrace.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured into my hair. I could feel the various bruises and scrapes that were covering my body, and clenched my teeth against the pain. My eyelid was already swelling, and it would probably be black soon.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. I could feel a trickle of something running down the back of my neck, and I knew at once that she was crying. My mind ignored the pain that was assaulting me from all directions, and focused on my mother. My poor, sweet, innocent mother who was stuck with a man she never loved, bound to him by her son. I knew she loved me, and always would, but the pang of guilt that gripped me was too much to bear. I was tethering her to my father. My ugly, mean, abusive father that didn't deserve my mother. I vowed at once to never be so weak again. I had to be there to protect my mother from my father as long as he was living in her house. And as soon as I had the means, I would get her out, and away from this awful life that she'd probably always wanted to escape.

I bent me elbows and flexed my feet. Carefully I stretched, taking care not to worsen any cuts, and then I sat up, still leaning against my mother.

"Don't cry," I said gently. I could not stand to see my mother in such a state.

"Oh, don't comfort me, Edward," she said hastily wiping her eyes with the frills of her nightgown. "You are the one hurt, not me. I care more for you than I can ever possibly care for myself and I want none of your sympathy."

I sighed. I was content in the knowledge that my mother would always be there for me, no matter the personal sacrifice. Though selfish, I did not object and tell her that I was a man, and that I needed no protection. I wanted to bask in the feeling that overwhelms all when they catch a glimpse of a love so powerful it can transcend time and place and abusive husbands and reach the intended recipient. I was so at ease, that I didn't even remember the other significant woman in my life. For now I was blissful, however fleeting, and my mind would let no distressing thoughts enter.

The next morning, I remembered.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth's soft curls invaded my dreams, as did the scent of her hair, the sound of her laugh, and the way her eyes seemed bottomless and full of a wisdom I could only dream of. I woke up happy in the vivid memory of her, but soon I was reminded of what had happened a few hours before. The large dark bruise on my side in the shape of a boot, stretched in a way that made me cry out softly. I resumed my original, painless position and again took stock of my afflictions, trying to figure out how to get up without bothering any of them. My back was relatively damage-free, as were my forearms. I propped up on my elbows and arched my back so that I could sit up. A scratch on my side that had begun closing puckered uncomfortably, but other than that I had sat up without any pain.

The living room, on whose west-facing wall I was now propped, was empty and dark. It was also quiet, which was odd. I could tell by the light purple glow that it was not past early evening, and usually at that time my father was in the kitchen drinking, or upstairs reading, and my mother was usually in the living room, knitting or embroidering, or upstairs getting ready for bed. Any of those activities made noise, but the house was quiet. Even the grasshoppers that usually were so loud I could hardly sleep were silent.

I got up, ignoring my protesting muscles and stood, staring around stupidly. First I went upstairs to see if my parents were asleep. Their beds were empty and I was out of ideas. There was nowhere else to go so I went outside and began down the muddy lane towards the town center. My pace was quick and I found with surprise that I was extremely agitated and nervous. All of the houses on my way were empty – I could tell by the lack of light – and that only heightened my feeling of anxiety. Soon I could not help but break into a run, I had to know what was happening and why I had been left at home.

The sound of horseshoes came up from behind me. The horse was moving at a good clip and was soon upon me. The rider was a young man that I knew from my childhood, and I held my hand up to halt him.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm going to the town square," he said. "Haven't you heard?"

"Hear what?" I asked now so anxious to hear that I couldn't stand it.

"Uh…well, Edward. I don't really know how to say this…"

"Spit it out!"

"Well, Elizabeth is missing. Everyone is looking for her."

My heart seized, my breath shortened, and every fiber in my being was at attention.

"Since when?" I asked, surprised at my ability to form a coherent sentence

"She's been missing since last night, but her parents thought she would come back. They just announced it and everyone is at the church. All of the men are out searching." I was lost in my thoughts.

"Can I ride with you?" I asked staring out into space, shocked.

"What?" he asked leaning forward.

"Can I ride with you!" He withdrew at my savage tone of voice, but silently consented and moved forward on the saddle.

The countryside was a blur on the road, and I had no thought but one on the ride: _Elizabeth. No._ We arrived at the large town square quickly, and I jumped up and ran to the brightly lit, jam-packed church. My mother was just near the entrance and when she saw me she rushed to me and took my arm gingerly.

"Edward," she said, starting to steer me back towards the entrance. "I'm so sorry. I think you should leave." She practically dragged me out of the door, but not before Elizabeth's father, Eli, saw me. He stormed towards me, pushing through the crowded crowd. My mother continued trying to get me far away from the church, but Eli pursued. He pushed my mother's arm off of me and I felt anger and concern for her rush through my body simultaneously. I turned towards her, but a rough hand grabbed me under the chin and ripped my gaze to Eli's face.

"What have you _done?"_ his face was so close to mine that I shared his breath, and spit flecks hit my face. For the second time in twelve hours I feared for my life.


	4. Chapter 4

Eli's rough hand was clenched around my shirt collar, holding it so that I had to lean upwards. His nostrils were flaring and his mouth was set in a grim, angry line. Every muscle, fiber, nerve, and cell in my body were prepared to take a hit. My stomach muscles were clenched and my back arched, prepared to spring away. I could not blink, I could hardly breathe, and I could not respond to his question. _I have done nothing! _My mind screamed, but my lips were not getting the message. I was so hyper-aware of the big man in front of me, that I did not sense the silence of the crowd, nor the breaking of it as three men on horseback rode up to the church.

Eli looked up, and I caught a glimmer of hope in his eyes. My mind began processing again, and I realized that these men had probably been on the search party, and were bringing back news of Elizabeth. I looked at them, as anxious as anyone to hear. The grim look on the riders' faces immediately wiped the hope on Eli's face off, and the man in the front reached down slowly, holding a glimmering white choker in his hand. Eli took it from him gingerly, and as he brought it closer, I saw the crimson liquid that covered the first few pearls of the choker. It was still wet and shone brightly in the moonlight. Eli brought it toward him slowly, and as it reached his chest, a drop of blood fell. The morbid trinket, it seemed, was mocking him.

As the drop of blood hit his shoe, Eli, who had by now released his hold on my shirt, collapsed sobbing uncontrollably. Eli's wife, Laura ran forth, her face ghostly pale and tears streaming down her face to be with her husband in his grief. The silent crowd, sensing that this moment was for the eyes of only Eli and Laura, turned away and started walking aimlessly towards the other buildings. I was frozen in a state of wide-eyed shock, not yet acknowledging the repercussions of the bloody necklace, and only the soft touch of my mother broke my reverie.

"We must go," she whispered. She twined her arm within mine and began walking slowly, stealing glances to my face periodically to assess my reaction. But there was nothing there for her to see. I, myself, was surprised by my lack of emotion, and knew that I was in a state of shock. My brain was protecting me by keeping the raging emotions barred, but as some point they would have to be released, and I knew, even in my state of unfeeling, that as my emotions came to be realized, I would be helpless in their deluge. I would be an emotional wreck that would not be able to function as I processed the fact that all that was left of my one and only love was lying bloody in the hand of her father.

But for now I was an emotionless shell that had watched the grieving parents of his love break down and sob at her loss, without blinking. Even as I walked empty, I knew that it was atrocious. I should have been down there, on the ground, feeling nothing but sorrow. Yet here I was, walking home with my mother, calmly analyzing my reaction to the discovery of Elizabeth's beloved pearl chocker, bloody and awful. Was I a monster? I had to be.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days (were they weeks?) mattered nothing to me. I was lost in a sea of grief and longing, and not even my mother could pull me out, no matter how many life preservers or rafts she threw. But, in some weird way, I wanted to be this person. I wanted to be a man forgotten, abused, and hurting, because if I wasn't him, then who was I? My life had been planned around Elizabeth and my happiness, and now that she, my rock, had been torn from me so mercilessly, I was trying to find myself all over again.

I dreamed of Elizabeth and I together, and though the dream itself made my unconscious mind outrageously happy, the violent out surge of emotion as I woke up, made the dreams simply not worth it: I could not stand my emotions fluctuating in such an intense manner. My days were awful affairs that lasted much too long. I hardly ate, which worried my mother. I did not sleep unless I was so absolutely run down that I could not sit down without falling asleep. Often, I stared at my opposite wall and thought. I say "thought" loosely, for my brain often blanked out, and I would suddenly stir, realizing that I had been in the same position for hours, not really aware of anything around me.

I knew I was causing my mother pain, which was clear by the continually deepening wrinkles in her forehead and near her eyes. What worried me that most was my lack of a drive or an ability to help her. I was so far gone into my despair, that I could spare no emotions for anyone else, no matter how much I loved them. My father, reversely, left me alone, glad that I was in my room for the better part of the day not bothering him.

An immeasurable amount of time passed, when the day came that my mother took me with her to the city. I was sprawled across my bed staring blankly at my oil lamp, when my mother rushed in. She paid no attention to me, and ran to my small closet. My mother's behavior was very strange, and I sat up, startled and a bit frightened at the harried look my mother had on her face. She was usually a very calm and collected person, but now she was extremely agitated and her mood put me on edge.

"Mother…" I began.

"Not now, Edward!" she snapped as she pulled out my traveling trunk and began piling clothes in, not bothering to fold them properly. I got up, now thoroughly confused and anxious, and began again to speak.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Oh for God's sake Edward! You realize that is the most words you have said to me at one time in_ months_?"

The reply hurt and surprised me. My mother had understood the entire time, realizing that I needed to be alone, but now her demeanor was hostile and a bit scathing.

"Do something useful with yourself while you're up," my mother said, a bit more kindly this time. "Put everything you want to take with you in this bag." She handed me Father's black leather toiletries bag, and I stared at it for a moment in trepidation. It was empty, which meant Mother had taken out Father's belongings and put them somewhere else. I was worried what Father might do if he saw what had happened to his bag, but then realized that whatever my mother was up to, she had a plan for it.

I swept books, letters, writing utensils, and a small picture of Elizabeth in my bag, (my heart gave a slight twang at this last item) zipped it, and carried it downstairs. My mother had already hauled my traveling trunk downstairs and had set it near the door that lay agape. I peered through the crack in the door and saw my mother outside, loading up a trunk into a horse-drawn carriage. None of this was making sense, and I feared my father returning and catching Mother in her strange leave-taking.

After her suitcases were loaded, Mother hurried back into the house and gave me instructions to put my coat on and take my bags out to the carriage. My mother walked deeper into the house as I dragged my bags through the dirt and into the carriage. I piled them up my suitcases on top of Mother's and then climbed in. My mother then rushed out of the house in a flurry of chiffon and loose hair and jumped into the carriage.

"Away!" she yelled to the driver. Then she turned to me and said, "A change of scenery will do us both some good." Her eyes were bright with excitement. She then laughed at loud and continued to observe the countryside that was now rushing away. I couldn't help but wonder if my mother hadn't gone a bit crazy.

**a/n: I hope everyone likes this installment. Keep reading and please review! On another note, I can't remember the city that Edward and his mother end up in (and the one where they meet Carlisle, and where Edward's mother eventually dies of the Spanish influenza). If someone could please send me the name of the city I would be much obliged!**


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: since no one told me what city Edward lived in as his time as a human, I decided to improvise and picked Chicago. It's a big city, and not unlike the one described in the book. Come to think about it, was the city Edward lived in ever named…? Please review! I don't care if you write one word…REVIEW!!**

The buildings really were a sight to behold. They were mammoth things, many stories higher than any buildings I had before witnessed. Our carriage was flanked on both sides by cars - things I had never seen before. I stared at the man riding to the left of us. The car was moving all by itself, and I could not help but feel very country. No one back home had owned cars, or had wanted to. Horses were much stronger and could help plow fields or transport corn. But here in the city, everything was jammed in closely together, and no one would need any animals to plow a field. I glanced over at my mother, who was also enjoying herself watching the unfamiliar scenery. She felt my eyes on her and turned to look at me. She smiled, and I smiled back, realizing that this was the first time I had smiled since…

I didn't let thoughts of Elizabeth come, for I knew that if I did, I would no longer see the city the same way. Instead of a sprawling metropolis full of opportunities, it would be a suffocating place of confusion and self-pity. I needed something to take my mind off of the subject and started speaking.

"Mother, for what reason did we come here, exactly?" I asked. She paused, searched my face, and replied,

"Like I said, Edward, I needed a change of scenery. And you did too," she said a bit sternly but not unkindly. "You've had a lot on your mind, lately, and you need somewhere that you can heal. What better place than Chicago, the windy city?"

"Why do they call it windy?" I asked, wondering if the answer could be so obvious.

"Well, because it's windy of course! And because of the politicians, but mostly because of the wind they get here. I hear it's quite something, squeezed between all of these buildings." As if on cue, a gust of wind entered our coach through the open windows, ruffling Mother's and my hair.

"It's reading our mind!" said Mother as she smoothed her hair back into a bun. The carriage began to slow and pull over to the side of the road, bumping and jostling all the while. We were in front of a couple of buildings, not unlike those I had seen throughout the city.

"Here we are," said the driver, jumping down from his perch. "The Snapping Turtle Hotel. Pretty nice and not too much to pay." At this he held out his hand toward Mother expectantly. She reached into the bag she had been carrying on her lap for the entire trip, and extracted three or four paper bills and some coins.

"There," she said counting the last of the change, "that should be enough." Without even checking how much there was in his hand, the driver shoved it into his pocket and climbed up the carriage, tossing down luggage.

"Be careful!" my mother shrieked as he reached her small, light blue parcel. "There's valuables in there!" He was about to toss it down, but instead climbed down, heavily sighing, making us aware that it strained him to climb down and back up. He delivered the luggage to my mother, who held it firmly in her hands until her threw down the last bag. I looked at our luggage – it wasn't much.

"Come, Edward," my mother said turning towards the door. "Hurry!"

"I picked up the remaining bags and began tottering to the door, when out of nowhere a man ran into me. He had been moving quickly, very quickly, and I hadn't seen him until he had run into me. Bags went flying and the man stopped, bewildered, obviously trying to figure out when and how he had just run into me. I quickly got up from my place on the street, and began to pick up the bags that were now lying under people's feet, but by the time I had picked up on, the mysterious man had picked them all up and was handing them to me.

"Sorry," he said in a soft voice that still held authority through its hushed tones. "Here." I took the bags from his hand, and as soon as I did, the man turned and continued with the flow of traffic up the street. I walked toward my mother, thinking the encounter was a bit strange, but nothing more. My mother stood in the doorway, staring in the direction the man had walked, her eyes squinted a bit in thought and perplexity.

"Mother," I said, bringing her back to the present. Her expression evaporated immediately, and she smiled.

"Ready?" she asked. I nodded and walked into the hotel behind her. _How odd,_ I thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: Sorry this has taken **_**sooo**_** long! Expect more frequent updates, and as always…REVIEW!!**

The bed was springy, firm, and not at all pleasant. The room that mother had rented for us temporarily was small and untidy, but all together clean. The two beds were shoved against one of the walls, headboard to headboard. A large, heavily abused wooden table stood in the middle of the room around which there were three mismatched chairs. A small cookstove was on the wall closest to the door but I doubted that it worked. A solitary light bulb worked strenuously to illuminate the room, but its work was in vain for the only part of the room that saw light was the table.

The window overlooked the river and the sprawling city, and was covered with two dingy cloth scraps that I immediately flung aside. As soon as we had been checked into the hotel, my mother and I had dropped off our luggage and walked out into the twilight, trying to get to know the unfamiliar place. I saw more people in the first few minutes of our walk than I had ever seen before, and was in amazement at the beauty of the people. The small town from which I hailed had been small and the people did not come in a variety, but here there were all sorts of people, young or old, black, white, or in between, some walking lavishly in heavy, stylish clothes, others begging on the corners for food.

My mind had been so immersed in thoughts of the city that I was now an inhabitant of, that thoughts of Elizabeth had not crossed my mind. But as soon as that topic came to mind, I cast it off, unwilling to let the first feelings of peace and (dare I say it?) happiness that I had felt in months go.

Mother and I criss-crossed the streets, deciding where we wanted to go upon impulses, when our nostrils caught a delectable scent. My mother and I paused in our walk simultaneously, both hungry from our daylong journey. We followed our noses to a small restaurant on the corner of a street called Breezy Lane. The restaurant had red awnings that flapped invitingly in the warm fall air, and we walked in. A woman sitting at the front folding napkins pointed to a table towards the back, not even bothering to stand up.

I led my mother along the narrow strip of carpet between the extremely busy tables to the back, where menus were waiting. I picked mine up eagerly, my hunger catching up to me ruthlessly. I began to scan the rows of delicious-sounding entrees, when a man that I had not noticed sitting in the table next to Mother and my table began talking.

"Might I suggest the steak? It's very good rare?" Mother and I looked up surprised, at the same time. "My name's Carlisle." With a start, I realized the same man that was sitting next to me was the one I had bumped into earlier outside of the hotel. I glanced at my mother, who had an odd look on her face, one that I could not quite place. My mother startled me when she spoke,

"I am Roseanna, and this is my son, Edward."

"What lovely names," replied Carlisle.


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n: Oh my gosh, I'm soo sorry. It's been, what, a month or two since I last updated, but for all of you that are still reading the story, thankyouthankyouthankyou! I know I promised in the last installment that I would update much more frequently, and I'm not going to make that promise again, because I obviously can't keep it, but please check back and I will update more often than I have been.**

A crash woke me up. I opened my eyes wide, startled, only to see my mother bending over her trunk, trying to right it after its apparent topple from the desk it had rested on. I sighed and rolled over, annoyed at this sudden awakening.

"Sorry, Edward," she whispered. "Go back to sleep." I groaned and rolled over, but now that I was awake, it would be nearly impossible to go back to sleep.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh, just out for some air. I need to get up and move!"

"Mother, we were out until midnight last night, and you're not tired?"

"Were we out that late? Goodness, I lost track of the time! Well, try to get back to sleep, I'll be back soon!" And with that, my mother donned a hat and whisked out of the door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up in my bed. The sun shone through the thin lace curtains hanging on the window. My luggage was lying at the foot of my bed. I opened the trunk and rummaged through it to find my clean change of clothes. They were rumpled from traveling under layers of clothes and belongings, but they were clean. As I was pulling on my shirt, someone knocked at the door. Thinking it would be my mother, back early from her walk, I opened the door.

"Oh! Hello, Carlisle," I said, surprised that he was here.

"Hello, Edward. Good morning," he said suavely.

"H-how are you?"

"Well, I was just wondering if your mother was here."

"No, she's not here right now, she, uh, went on a walk."

"That's fine. Can you just give her this, please?" He handed over a book tied in a light blue cord.

"Sure," I said, looking at the book. When I looked up he was gone.

"Carlisle?" I called looking down the hall. Oddly enough, there was no sign of him.

I looked back at the small object in my hand. The book was old, and the title was worn away. I opened the book and looked inside. The leaves were won soft and yellow. The type was faded though still readable. I closed the door and sat down on my bed, then started reading.


End file.
